Why do they do it to me?
I have a thing about Art Girls. I hate them, but I am also generally enraptured by them and their "different" ways. I end up with them. In fact, as I sit here in uni, I am wearing a (home-made) T-shirt that simply states: "Art girls". I think that it says it all.

Anyway, as the summer of 2004 rolled slowly on, I started a new job in a bar/club in Leeds. There was a girl there that I fancied, and we seemed to get on well and share quite a few interests. As the weeks progressed I seriously began considering asking her out - a big thing for me because I get really nervous around girls even though I'm generally loud and outspoken at most other times. I never had to do this because she got my number off one of my friends from work and began to text me.

To cut this short, things evolved and SHE asked me out (if I'm honest, I slackly refused the first request; an almost cheeky test to see how far I could actaully push her) and she actually texted again and said "PLEASE come to the pub now, THOM!" so I said yes and ran there as fast as I could.

We talked, and she drank water (I had to point that out before you all incinuate the obvious) before I walked her home and picked her a red rose on the way. We ended up kissing and hugging on her doorstep for half an hour, as the lights of the city twinkled below us. I would also like to mention, that I popped a finger into her pussy.
She explicitly told me that she really liked me, had done for a while and would definitely like to see me again.

I got in touch a couple of days later, and she said "Sweety, come round to mine this evening."
I was well 'appy, as i obviously began to envisage my dick cummin in 'er cunt that night. I went round, and when she answered the door I attempted to hug/kiss her, which she rejected. Damn, i thought. I had just been cruelly snubbed at the first stage of my proceedings. Now she full knew my intentions, and the ball was in her court.

We did not progress to her room. We sat in the living room with her freinds that I did not know. we smoked skunk that did not lubricate the conversation...it in fact did the opposite. They chatted about people that I did not know amongst themselves and used a strange form of code/made up language to do so. This was weird, i thought. But I did not have the courage to leave. To much attention would have been drawn to me. Eventually conversation dried up completely, and to make matters worse, a crazy french exchange student that was sat with us started laughing at the silence, then proudly proclaimed "It's so funny that you guys are not talking!".

Everyone left, and we sat next to each other. The tension was warm and suffocating. It was probably how I'd imagine being inside a balloon feels. In one last gasp attempt to salvage some form of sex from this ordeal I began to stroke the tattoos of stars she has down her lower spine. This, was wrong. I could feel her gently shudder as I did so, and not with passion: with repulsion. I said something lame that still makes me cringe, like : "Such pretty stars, do they have names?" before cutting my losses and walking home. I tried to kiss her on her doorstep, but she flatly turned her cheek.

Things were very awkward in work, and she ignored me totally. Just as we had begun to patch things up she sends me texts saying "I guess you think I'm after you now" and the like. I was drunk and said

"As if I want to be friends with someone that doesn't fancy me anyway, freak. Beeeatch!!!"

It was over. We never spoke again and she left work.

I do it to myself. I should have known. And now I shall always remember what i already knew:

ART GIRLS.
(Tommy B!, Tue 26 Oct 2004, 16:59, Reply)